When The Chips Are Down
by childofthemuses
Summary: *season 4 spoiler alert* Keith has just casually announced his plan to sacrifice himself for the good of the universe. Voltron is too far away to help, but losing Keith is an outcome Lance refuses to accept.
1. Chapter 1

Lance couldn't believe what he had just heard.

Did Keith know that the paladins could hear him, as he nonchalantly announced to Matt his plan? This brilliant plan that consisted of driving his ship, and himself, into the particle barrier.

Lance knew that the guy was hot headed, but this was a new extreme. He huffed angrily: all this time Lance had given him pointers on how to maintain a level head, to think his plans through before just rushing in and making a mess.

And now? Now… now the team were going to lose Keith forever. The past few weeks without his presence had ground on Lance: Shiro was always planning future battles or propaganda with Allura and Coran. Pidge and Hunk had spent every waking moment with Matt, the three of them tinkering day and night, playing with some new gizmo or device.

Lance…Lance had been playing a lot of video games.

Everyone had their little groups outside of training, and Lance watched on enviously. His battle strategies were never good enough, never fully there, something to be scoffed at and slide to the side. He didn't mind, he could admit he wasn't the greatest of strategists.

His tech knowledge was nothing compared to the Holt siblings, and when he wanted to have a laugh Hunk was too wrapped up in what he was working on to have a good time. Lance was happy supplying comic relief, he loved to make people laugh, but these three were enjoying themselves building. They didn't need comic relief.

He didn't mind, he could admit he wasn't the greatest of engineers.

And so the gaming system that he and Pidge had set up, that Pidge had been too distracted to play, was his sanctuary. Here he could work within a virtual team and not feel the ache of a missing presence. The two-player button taunted him, though, every time he selected single-player.

He was just a little jealous, he could admit that too.

It had been happening for some time, that when Shiro and Allura went strategizing, or Pidge and Hunk went tinkering, Lance and Keith went…

He didn't know exactly what he and Keith went doing. It was always different. And not always planned.

They seemed to gravitate to each other: Lance wants to go swimming, there's Keith. Lance wants to try cooking some of his Mum's old recipes with ingredients that looked similar from the planet they had just liberated, and there would be Keith, reading in the kitchen. Lance wants to hone his hand-to-hand combat skills, and Keith would be practising with the gladiator.

Keith wants to improve his aim when shooting, and manages to find the best sharpshooter around to teach him.

They had trained together, eaten together. Lance had been teaching him how to play the video game, taunting him for how bad he was. When they didn't want to be alone, they seemed to end up together. They didn't always talk, it was just a comfort to be in the presence of someone else.

With Keith now piloting the black lion, and Lance in red, Lance had been feeling content. He knew where he fit, and even though that had been shaken when Shiro returned things quickly settled as Shiro provided support with Coran. Everything seemed to fit together. It clicked.

But the mounting tension between Keith and Shiro was palpable. Shiro being the voice of reason, Keith knowing what he felt was right but being too hot headed to put his point across correctly. Lance had come between them a lot in the heat of argument, attempting to mediate and explain to them what the other party was trying to say. Explain to Keith that there were more immediate problems to deal with than Lotor, who had fallen off the grid. Try and make Shiro understand Keith's point of view, because yes Lotor was a huge problem and his disappearance should be seen as a bad thing, that he was clearly plotting something, they should be trying to track him down when they could.

But Keith and Shiro had risen as leaders, as alphas, and both had very different points of view. And neither would happily bend to the other. The two had some sort of bond, and Keith's respect towards Shiro was obvious, which made issues worse as Keith grew exasperated at Shiro not listening to him. The tension was rising, Keith leaving probably avoided some massive fallout that was quickly approaching.

But Lance felt his absence immediately. He had ran to the kitchen late one night, having had an epiphany when attempting to work out his mother's secret ingredient for her empanadas. He felt his heart fall when he burst into the empty kitchen. Keith had been with Lance through his culinary quest to successfully make a batch of empanadas, Lance had sworn to him that it would be the greatest thing he would ever eat in his life (they had also sworn not to say that last bit to Hunk though). But Keith's chair was empty, his book gone, and Lance lost all motivation to cook. He stored his epiphany away in the back of his mind for when he saw Keith again.

Now, it looked like that may not happen.

Lance was too far away, damn it! Keith's soft voice came through his helmet, his intention to crash his ship and take down the particle barrier.

Lance's heart was in his throat: the rest of the paladins were silent. Stunned. They were too far away to help, stuck out in empty space a million miles away from their friend. They couldn't stop him.

Lance felt Red's sadness match with his own: his own paladin, too far for him to help.

"What do we do, boy?" Lance whispered, stunned. They were both going to lose Keith.

A strange energy built, Red's controls vibrating beneath his touch. It was the feeling when Voltron was falling apart, when the paladin's minds were no longer united and got ripped apart. But it made no sense: surely their minds should be in sync now more than ever.

"What's happening?" Shiro's voice came through Lance's helmet, his concerned face showing on the monitor.

Pidge's face appeared, "We're falling apart!"

"Not now," Allura yelled, "We need to try and help them!"

"Lance?" Hunk's voice came through softly.

The paladins drew silent as Lance said nothing, Red shaking around him.

"Lance?" Hunk urged.

"What's going on?"

"We need to stick together-"

"We need to stay strong for-"

"He wouldn't want us-"

"We need to try-"

"We can do this-"

"He wouldn't-"

"He-"

"He-"

"He isn't here!" Lance yelled. The voices stopped and the shaking grew. Everything shone white for a second, then Lance felt Voltron rip apart from his grief, his unwillingness to accept this.

The team wouldn't make it in time. They couldn't.

But he was in the fastest Lion. He was in the Lion that had a strong bond with Keith. Keith, who needed saving. There had to be something they could do. Red was rearing to go, there had to be something.

As Voltron burst apart, the Red Lion was the first to move, firing forward.

"Lance, get back here," Shiro's stern voice sounded. "That's an order. We need to stick together."

"We aren't going to make it," Lance shook his head, "Not together. But me and Red, we could-"

"Could what?" Shiro said, sounding defeated. "What are you going to do Lance? It's too far. If Voltron can't do anything, what can you do?"

Lance felt a tear escape his eye, run down his cheek. "I won't give up," He said quietly, feeling a strange energy fill his gut. His fists clenched Red's controls, shaking.

"I'm not asking you to give up," Shiro pleaded, "But I need you to think about this. How-"

But Lance didn't hear the rest of what Shiro said. Because he heard Keith. So so quiet, he thought he imagined it, but he felt his gut tug towards a battle across space where his friend was fighting for his life.

"What are you doing, Lance?"

Keith believed these were his final moments, yet he took the time to speak to Lance the way Lance spoke to him when he was being hot headed. When Keith was acting rash, Lance would make him think about exactly what he's doing.

Keith was in danger, and yet Lance was what he was worrying about.

The energy in his gut grew, twisted, burst out.

"Anything!" Lance called, pushing the controls forwards and shutting his eyes against further tears, that strange energy guiding him forward. "Anything to stop you doing this."

"Lance-" Shiro's voice cut through with the weight of authority.

"How are you doing that?" Pidge asked.

"You…you shouldn't…" Allura sounded shocked. "You shouldn't be able to-"

Everything flashed a familiar blue hue, Lance becoming lost in a sea of energy and grief. He clutched at Red's controls, pushing him forward blindly.

"You shouldn't…"

Allura's voice faded away, lost to the roaring in his ears, lost to the familiar cacophony of noise which resided within the wormhole.

"Lance?" Keith's voice somehow made it through the noise. A question strangely holding the weight of a goodbye.

Just that one word. Just his name.


	2. Chapter 2

"Red?"

There were so many questions Lance wanted to ask, but they got stuck in his throat, squabbling over which was to be asked first. Instead he remained silent, swallowing uncomfortably around the lump, watching the swirling blue of the wormhole around him. The team's chattering in his ear was distracting, ranging from the wonder of a new lion power to distress and worry for Lance and Keith. He turned off his intercom, limiting it to only allow signals from the rebels through: he felt terribly guilty, but he needed to focus.

How did Red even manage to open a wormhole? No one had told them they could do that… Granted the paladins were always unlocking new powers the lions possessed, but it would have been helpful for Coran or Allura to mention. All the difficult times such a power could have come in handy, when Allura was incapacitated or when the teladuv lenses had shattered. They could have spent time specifically trying to unlock the ability instead of being left to stumble blindly in the dark.

But Lance didn't have time to wonder how he was here: the wormhole's exit was fast approaching. He had left the others far behind, taking this detour across space. He had only followed his gut instinct: it had all happened so fast. The tear on his cheek hadn't even dried yet.

Suddenly a battle was erupting around him: the daunting, purple particle barrier of the Galra ship was before him, ships blurring past, firing endlessly at the force field while attempting to dodge the lasers being fired at them. It was utter chaos, Lance's intercom picking up chatter from the rebel fighters as they shouted for someone to present a plan.

But someone already had. Where was he?

"Keith!" Lance screamed, turning Red, searching desperately for a ship on a kamikaze mission.

"Lance?" Keith's voice was full of confusion, his breath hitched.

"Where are-?"

"Look out!" Keith yelled, Lance's eardrums buzzing from the volume of his cry. At that moment Lance spotted Keith's ship: it was barrelling straight towards him.

He had wanted to find Keith, and Red had made that happen. Had managed to place Lance somewhere Keith would notice him – where Keith couldn't fail to see him.

Lance had succeeded in his mission to stop Keith crashing into the particle barrier. Instead, Keith was going to crash into the Red lion. The outcome was the same: Lance would lose Keith.

Lance yelled, attempted to move out the way. But it was much too late: Keith was going too fast. Lance felt everything slow around him as the ship drew closer, crashing into Red's hind leg and exploding into a fire ball.

"KEITH!"

The blast sent Red careening backwards, spinning and turning Lance's vision into a series of blurs. He tried to steady Red, but he was distracted as he shouted Keith's name, screamed, waited for him to say that the crash wasn't as bad as it looked.

He got Red out of his spiral, turning to look at the charred wreckage that had been Keith's ship. The red lion was close to indestructible. A Galra ship, however…

"Keith?" Lance sobbed his name, his breathing uneven. He was gone…he was gone and the particle barrier was still up. Naxzela was still going to blow, still going to destroy this entire galaxy, and Lance couldn't even save Keith. This was all his fault.

"Lance!"

Lance's breathing stalled in his chest, ears straining, sure he hadn't imagined it.

"Keith?"

"Help-" The breathing was laboured.

"Help me!"

Just then Red's sensors locked onto something: a small projectile hurtling through empty space, too small for the battle cruiser's lasers to lock on to.

It was Keith. Keith, who must have ejected from his ship at the last second, was flying through space uncontrollably, his jetpack struggling to slow him.

Again instinct took over, and Red was racing towards Keith, the lion's jaw opening wide to catch the small form. Lance abandoned his seat and ran to the Lion's mouth, desperate to make sure Keith was alright. Red could keep them safe for a few minutes without him.

His boots clanged loudly on the metal as Lance entered the mouth, rushing to where Keith lay on the ground.

He was breathing heavily. The hood on his Blade of Marmora uniform had fallen down, but his helmet still securely in place. Lance knelt next to him, attempting to remove the helmet, desperate to see his face, to see if he was hurt.

After a moment of fumbling (the helmet blended seamlessly with the rest of the uniform) Keith reached up and pressed a point behind his earlobe. The helmet dissipated, and Keith's dark eyes were peering up at him.

He gave a weak smile, and Lance felt relief flood him. Before he knew what he was doing, he had pulled Keith into a firm hug, trying to still his shaking body.

"You idiot!" They both said at the same time.

Lance released him, his face growing stern. "Me, the idiot? Did you bang your head in that crash?"

Keith sat up, glaring at Lance. "The barrier is still functional. Naxzela is going to blow any minute now. We're going to die anyway!"

"Well _excuse_ me." Lance felt anger creeping into his voice. "I just wanted to stop my teammate from doing the stupidest thing I've ever heard of! I thought after all this time with my guidance you would at least think before rushing in headfirst without thinking."

"I did think! The pros outweighed the cons. It would have saved everyone." Keith's voice was clipped short, nostrils flaring. "Including you."

"Oh how noble," Lance's voice was laced with sarcasm. He pushed to stand, Keith quickly joining him rather than being left on the floor. 'Because you don't matter, not one bit. Because no one would care if you disappeared forever!"

"Because I'm not selfish," Keith snapped.

Lance was taken back, just for a moment. He nodded. "You're right, I am selfish. I couldn't just let you die because it would have haunted me until the day I die. You wouldn't have saved my life: your presence would have hung grey over everything I ever did for the rest of my life."

Keith stayed silent.

"It would have been an empty life," Lance crossed his arms and looked away. The air between them was too serious, even if these were their final moments. "I would never have moved past the fact that I was only living my life because you weren't. It's not a trade I was willing to make."

Keith was looking down too: neither of them wanting to acknowledge the tension between them. A light blush dusted his cheeks: did he really think that he was so worthless that he could just disappear and no one would care?

"Come on," Keith muttered, walking past Lance on his way to the control room. "We need to get that particle barrier down."

A low rumble from Red was all the warning they got to get their helmets back on before the lion suddenly opened his mouth. Lance breathed deeply, looking to Keith in confusion. He activated his jetpack, flying to the edge of the lion's mouth to peer out onto the battle, breath loud in his ears. What was the lion trying to tell them?

"Oh my god," Keith muttered, floating past him.

Oh my god was right. Lance blinked, unsure if he was actually seeing what was happening before him.

The impenetrable Galra barrier had been breached by a shining, purple beacon. The ship it came from was impossibly small, Lance couldn't believe it was packing such power. But it hung peacefully in space, calmly decimating the Galra defences below.

"Lotor." The name escaped Lance's lips without much thought. But it made sense: no one else would have access to such power.

They watched as bright cracks raced across the particle barrier, the fissures splitting and branching off, consuming the entire barrier. It held for a mere second, its broken pieces joined together with that bright, bright light, before the whole thing shattered and disappeared.

Without its barrier, the battle cruiser looked far less daunting. It remained still for a second, as though shocked to be beaten, before making a hasty jump to hyperspace.

"What just happened?" Lance said.

Keith grabbed Lance's arm without a word and fired up his jet pack, dragging them both to the back of the mouth and back up into the control room. He ran towards the pilot seat, ready to sink into a role he had donned countless times before seeming to remember where he was. He looked to Lance awkwardly, standing next to the chair and waiting for Lance to sit down.

"Are you sure?" Lance felt uncomfortable: when Lance first started piloting Red Keith had the black lion, there was no competition.

Was Keith even able to pilot the red lion anymore?

What if Red preferred him to Lance?

He found himself wishing for the security of Blue, who had always stood by him, who chose him first when she could have picked any of the others. Who had only let him go so he could continue to grow.

Allura was one lucky paladin.

"We should go after Lotor," Keith said, pulling Lance from his thoughts.

Lance nodded, but neither of them made a move towards the chair.

Keith sighed. "Red is yours now, Lance. I understand that: as much as I love flying with him, my rightful place is either piloting the black lion, or piloting nothing."

Lance squirmed beneath his heavy gaze: the thought of flying Red with Keith looking over his shoulder made him uncomfortable. He didn't want Keith judging him, back seat flying, or deciding that Lance's bond with Red wasn't as strong as his own.

"You're the better pilot," Lance said. "You weren't top at the garrison for nothing. Lotor obviously has a lot of power at his disposal, we need to start with our best foot forward."

This wasn't hard for him to admit. After all, there was a reason Lance had chosen Keith as his rival.

Lance could see the longing in Keith's eyes: he wanted to fly with Red, even just one more time. "Are you sure? I don't want you to feel like-"

Lance cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Take the offer. I can see how much you and Red miss eachother."

This earned Lance one of Keith's rare, toothy grins as he flung himself down into the seat. Keith visibly relaxed into such familiar surroundings, pressing on the controls to find where Lotor had had flown off to.

Lance stepped forwards, leaning on the back of the chair. "Is your sword from the Blade of Marmora like our bayards?"

Keith didn't turn round as he asked, "What do you mean?"

"Like, does it get stored in your suit when you don't need it?"

"No? Why?"

"Just you always have it sheathed at the small of your back, but it's not there. So where do you keep it?"

Lance had thought the question was innocent enough, but Keith's hand flew to his back, grasping desperately for the blade that was not there.

"Damn it!" He slammed his hands on the controls, causing the lion to jutter. "I must have lost it in the crash!"

Lance knew what that blade meant to Keith. He rested a hand on his shoulder. "Calm down. It's probably just downstairs on the floor where you landed. You find Lotor, I'll go check."

Keith's hands relaxed slightly. He nodded his thanks, turning back to the screens.

"It'll just be on the floor." Lance assured.

It was not on the floor.

Lance quickly looked throughout the small space, checking between Red's teeth to see if it was lodged anywhere.

"Lotor has completely disappeared," Keith's defeated voice came through the intercom. "That new ship must have a cloaking device - he's just vanished. Did you find my knife?"

"No," Lance announced. "Maybe it dislodged itself while you were outside. Open Red up and I'll go and check."

"Don't worry about it Lance, I can just get another one from the Blade."

"It can't hurt to check," Lance said, knowing full well that Keith was just putting up a front. "I will be two ticks."

"Okay. But be quick – we should meet up with the rest of the team."

The teeth parted before Lance and he fired himself out into empty space. It was strange, floating out in front of Red. With the battle cruiser's disappearance, the rebel ships had gathered in a small cluster, most likely updating the paladins and Coran on Lotor's appearance.

Lance brought up his scanner on his screen, slowly searching his surroundings for any sign of the knife.

"Lance, just leave it," Keith's voice came through, uneasy. "We should go."

"Keith, it's fine, just-"

"This was a battlefield up until a few minutes ago. You shouldn't be floating out there, you're defenceless."

"I've got you and Red looking out for me, it's fine." Just then Lance heard a quiet ping and his scanner locked in on something. "Besides, I think I've found it."

Lance's jetpack started, pushing him forwards. Red waited patiently, though Lance could guess that Keith was impatient as ever behind the controls. "How far are you going? Get back inside and we can pick it up with Red."

"I'm almost there," Lance said, now close enough to see the item he was chasing. He recognised the glowing initial on the hilt: the knife!

"Lance-"

"Almost-"

"Red's picking up on some strange activity."

"-there."

Keith's voice was taking on an edge of panic. "Lance-"

Lance's fingers were stretched out before him, grasping at the blade hanging peacefully.

"Something's not right!"

Lance's fingers clamped around the sheath. "I've got it!" He announced happily, turning back towards Red to wave the blade triumphantly, hoping Keith could see.

"Get inside," Keith ordered.

"What?" Lance asked, the euphoria of locating the blade quickly draining to be replaced by a panic similar to Keith's. He started back towards the red lion, just before a beam of purple energy shot out from empty space and collided with Red, knocking him backwards as Keith yelled from surprise.

And Lance now understood what Keith had meant: floating out in open space with a knife and a rifle, he really was defenceless.


	3. Chapter 3

Lance was out in open, open space. Alone. With a tiny rifle to protect himself. And two giant space ships fighting around him.

Keith scolded himself for letting him leave.

The knife was just a sentimental trinket, it wasn't worth all this bother. He should have pressed its unimportance, he shouldn't have let Lance go outside.

He was struggling to convince himself that he didn't care about the knife. But the fact that Lance was now in danger twisted his gut with guilt.

The blast from the ship had sent him careening backwards, losing sight of Lance in the process. Dread settled in his stomach, afraid that Lance was going to get caught in the crossfire.

"Keith? Are you okay?" Lance's voice came through.

"Fine. What about you?"

"Not going to lie, I am suddenly feeling very, very small. Fancy coming and picking me up before I get blasted to pieces?"

"Sure." Keith spun round, flying back the way he had came. The ship that had hit him was nowhere to be seen. His scanners showed nothing near him. "Any chance you saw what hit me?" He asked Lance.

"The laser came out of thin air. My best guess is Lotor."

Great. Just what Keith needed: a fight with the ship that had managed to take down the battle cruiser with a single shot. Keith adjusted his controls, locking onto Lance's location. He was a small blue dot in the expanse before him, his jet pack turned up as high as it would go. "Just stay where you are Lance, I'm coming to you."

"No way, compadre! I'm not floating around waiting to get shot out of the sky."

"Lance-" Keith was ready to argue his point, that it was easier to pick up an object that wasn't moving, but he was cut off.

"Look out!" Lance's warning came too late however as Keith felt Red get blasted once again. He stabilized the lion quicker this time, his battle instincts kicking in. Managing to see where the beam of energy had come from, he fired his own laser and successfully connected with the cloaked ship.

The success was short lived however, as Keith once again lost track of the ship. "Where is he?" Keith shouted, frustrated.

"I can't see a thing." Keith's display showed that Lance had taken his advice and had stopped moving.

"Yeah, no kidding," Keith muttered.

"Behind you!" The warning was better timed this time around, and Keith had the chance to move out of the way, barely avoiding another hit.

"Thanks!"

"Don't thank me yet, he's gone again."

Keith slapped the controls in frustration. "He's toying with us! How am I supposed to find him?"

"Shame we can't use Blue's sonic cannon…"

"Thank you for the helpful tip, Lance."

"Below you Keith!" As Keith moved out the way he saw the tell-tale glow of a charging cannon before the blast fired. So that was how Lance was spotting him.

Sick of this game, Keith powered towards Lance: at the moment his vulnerability was a distraction Keith couldn't afford. First get him back on board, then the two of them could go after Lotor.

Keith urged Red to put everything he had into his engines. He just had to be quick enough to grab Lance before Lotor tried to hit him again.

Lance's floating form appeared on his screen, drawing closer. Keith opened Red's jaw, ready to scoop him out of space the way Lance had done for him. After this they would surely be even.

He had managed to get close enough to Lance that he could see his face fall, grow pale.

"K-Keith…"

Suddenly there was an alarm blaring, all his controls turning a warning red.

An enemy ship, directly behind him.

Like with Pidge, Lotor must have been limited in how long he could keep his ship cloaked. It had materialised right behind him, canon ready to fire. Keith was faced with a choice: take the hit, or move and leave Lance open to the shot.

Although, considering the outcomes, it didn't seem to be much of a choice.

He grit his teeth, glad for the moment to prepare before the cannon fired. He fought to keep Red still, that purple beam attempting to make him lose control again. Concern for Lance was mounting: in his mind's eye Keith couldn't avoid the image of what could happen if he lost control. Why couldn't Lance have just stayed on the lion?!

Keith had Red shoot a laser in the hopes of stilling the onslaught. The blue stream missed it's intended target, but must have passed close enough to unnerve Lotor. The Galra's ship quickly turned tail and flew off.

Lance's sigh of relief came through the intercom. "Thank quiznak for that. Come get me and we can go back to the castle."

But Keith was transfixed, finding himself speeding after the ship: Lotor was right there. Keith could catch him.

"Keith? Buddy?"

"Wait there," Keith ordered, the chance to finally one up Lotor too good to resist. He pushed Red forwards, using all the speed he could muster, the laser canon already charging. "This won't take long."

"You can't just leave me here!" Lance shouted.

"I'm not leaving you," Keith assured. "I will be right back."

"I can't believe this! I came this far to save your sorry butt and you just abandon me."

"I'm not abandoning you! Just…give me a minute." He launched the canon, narrowly missing Lotor's ship. The distance between them was closing quickly.

He fired again, and successfully managed to hit the ship. He fired another quick blast, pleased to see the ship turn back towards him. At least he was able to give as good as he got.

Lotor fired at him, taking evasive manoeuvres to avoid another hit. With plenty of distance between him and Lance he was unafraid to fire with Red's full power. The two ships were locked in a dance, ducking and weaving out the other's way while constantly firing beams of blue and purple light.

"You hot-temptered, irresponsible, ungrateful piece of-" Lance's angry voice was buzzing in his ears, never pausing, as though the boy didn't need to breath when he was angry. Keith went to mute him for the time being when he found the intercom control flashing. One click and Shiro's tense face appeared.

"LANCE! Thank god, what hap- Keith?!" The shock on Shiro's face was apparent, eyebrows almost reaching his hair line. "What are you…where's Lance?"

"I'm currently engaged in a shoot out with Lotor," Keith explained, struggling to move out of the way just before Lotor fired. "Lance is fine."

"I most certainly am not!" Lance's panicked voice came through. "He left me behind in space Shiro!"

"What?! What are you two doing?"

A purple laser clipped Red's side and Keith juttered violently. "Trying to take down Lotor."

"Lotor? But he took down Haggar's ship?"

"So we saw. Before he attacked us," Keith said through gritted teeth. The ship Lotor had built was fast, almost as fast as Red. Another blue laser missed its target, and as Keith charged up another shot the ship winked out of existence right before his eyes. The cloaking device must be back up and running. Keith paused, waiting for the tell-tale purple of the charging cannon. He wouldn't let Lotor get the better of him again.

"But he wants to arrange a meeting? He wouldn't put that in jeopardy."

"He would, if there was something he wanted more," Allura's knowing voice said, her face appearing alongside Shiro's

"The entire Galra empire is out to get him, what more could he want than safety within an alliance with us?" Hunk and Pidge's faces joined the other paladins on the screen.

"I don't know." Allura sounded distressed. "This whole time he's been two steps ahead of us: we have no idea what his motives are, or his intentions. We need this meeting, we need to find out what he wants."

"Looks like he's passing on the opportunity," Shiro said. "Keith, if you get a chance to stop him take it. I don't trust leaving him with the amount of power that ship of his wields."

"I'm trying," The frustration was clear in Keith's voice, "But I've lost visual on him again! He's got some kind of cloaking device: he just keeps hiding and firing when I least expect it."

"Hang on a tick," said Pidge. "I'll try and access the red lion's sensors and see if I can boost them remotely. It won't be by much, but it could be enough to expose Lotor."

Keith was gripping the controls fiercely, trying to focus on his surroundings. Lotor truly was playing with him: why hadn't he fired by now?

"How long Pidge? My sensors still haven't picked up on anything." Impatience was creeping into Keith's voice – all this waiting around was making him edgy.

"That should be it now," Pidge announced.

The sensors remained unchanged.

"It didn't work."

"Or he's gone," Pidge said. "Maybe you scared him off?"

Keith sighed, aggravated that this had all been for nothing. "So what was the point in picking a fight only to run off?"

"We can ask him when he contacts us about this meeting. He obviously didn't achieve what he wanted to here, we should hear from him soon enough." Shiro rubbed his jaw as he thought. "Everyone get back to the Castle of Lions to debrief and discuss this further." Shiro smiled slightly at the thought, "It'll be nice to have you back, Keith."

Keith returned the smile, looking forward to reuniting with Shiro.

"And Keith?"

"Yeah?"

"Please remember to collect Lance before you head back." The paladins faces disappeared from his monitor and Keith's smile grew. Even though he regarded himself as a loner, the prospect of seeing the full team again warmed his heart. It had been a lonely few months, he could do with some family time.

He turned Red around, returning to the coordinates he had left Lance at. But instead of an angry Cuban boy yelling at him, Keith was met with empty space.

Again Lance didn't listen: Keith looked around, trying to work out where the blue paladin had flown off to.

"Lance?"

No reply.

"Lance, this isn't funny," Keith said, a little louder. The thought of being with the team again had excited him, he didn't have time to waste on Lance throwing a tantrum. "I'm sorry, okay? I stand by that I didn't abandon you, but I'm sorry you felt abandoned."

Still no reply. Keith fiddled with Red's sensors, not sure if Pidge's boost was still in effect. Maybe her interference had messed with the sensors and now they couldn't lock onto Lance's location?

It was incredibly immature that Lance wasn't responding to him, especially after he had apologised.

Keith shut his eyes: he and Red had a bond, Lance and Red had a bond. It made sense that he should be able to use Red's connection to find Lance, if he could tap into it. Keith felt he and Lance had a bond of their own, even if Lance wouldn't admit it: he felt confident that this would work.

He felt a distant flicker which he initially ignored, assuming it must be interference from the other paladins. Lance couldn't have flown that far.

"Come on, Lancey Lance," Keith said with a smirk, hoping the usage of Lance's self-appointed pet name would annoy him enough to respond.

Still nothing. Keith was beginning to grow uneasy.

He focused on that initial flicker of a presence, letting his mind follow the thread between him and it. It wasn't as far away as he had thought: it definitely couldn't be from the other paladins.

But it was too far for Lance to have managed to go in such a short amount of time. Keith was struggling to get a decent read on it: whatever it was, it was moving fast.

"Lance? Come on, this isn't funny." Keith's voice was beginning to sound hollow next to the empty static of the intercom. "Stop messing around."

But no reply came.

And, it seemed, no reply would come.

As panic began to build in his chest, he managed to focus in on the departing presence for just a moment.

The aura enveloped him, surrounding him with the feeling of laughter, of companionship. Of cool, calming water, and trust, and frustration. The sound of crashing waves met his ears, and he could smell the barest hint of spicy, Cuban cooking.

He was transported momentarily to the castle's kitchen, of a forgotten book in his hand as he watched Lance slave over the stove, muttering Spanish curses at the food. Keith never could complain, whatever food Lance presented was always delicious, yet Lance would always assure him it was garbage compared to that of his mother's.

It was in moments such as these that Keith felt like a normal teenager: not a paladin of Voltron, or some screw up that had flunked out of the garrison. Just some guy hanging out with his friend, with good food and decent enough company. Where he could relax, and forget about the responsibilities that lay beyond the kitchen.

As that imagined smell of cooking faded, Keith's heart dropped. There was no doubt that the departing presence belonged to Lance.

"Quiznak!" Keith shouted. He stood and paced, yelling. Dread curled in his gut as his fragile connection with the aura was severed. "Damn it!" He screamed. He said, he _promised,_ that he wouldn't let Lotor get the best of him again. He said he didn't abandon Lance. He said he would be right back.

But Lance was gone, disappearing somewhere amongst the stars. Keith sat back down, attempting to reestablish the connection between them, but the thread was gone. Maybe Keith had let them get too far away before realising his mistake.

This was all his fault. His pride had resulted in Lance being taken.

Was Lance what Lotor had been after this whole time, why he had toyed with Keith so? Keith recalled how he had chased Lotor through space, before Lotor mysteriously disappeared.

Had Lotor been leading them away from Lance? To keep him out of the crossfire, or make him easier to capture?

Whatever the disgraced prince's plans, it seemed Lance was more important to him than establishing a protective alliance with the rebels.


	4. Chapter 4

Anger boiled in Lance's throat, escaping in fiery bursts of fury. He rattled mercilessly into the intercom, floating alone in space as Red disappeared from his sight. The anger helped, kept him focused. Kept him from thinking about the vastness of space and what a tiny spec he was, floating in the universe.

A tiny, tiny, defenseless spec.

But the anger clogged his throat and kept the fear at bay. As long as he was cursing Keith, he was okay.

Relief came in the form of Shiro's voice, ringing through the intercom with authority: finally he could talk to someone rational.

"Lance is fine."

Lance was aghast. He was shocked, and he was angry. He was alone, abandoned, furious. He was burning, a fiery cinder of fury and curses, and he was very, very small. The concept of being 'fine' had never felt to foreign to him before.

"I most certainly am not! He left me behind in space Shiro!" He heard the panic in his voice, but Lance couldn't help it. Fear was beginning to break through the anger in his throat, constricting his vocal chords. The empty void of space was getting to him.

"What?! What are you two doing?"

There was a loud boom in Lance's ears: Lotor must have hit Keith again.

Ha. Serves him right.

Shiro did not have the reaction Lance was looking for. All he needed was Keith to get told off for abandoning teammates and told to come and collect Lance. That's all Lance wanted. But they were already on to discussing Lotor and Lance felt he should at least listen to what had happened since he had shot the battle cruiser.

But the voices were difficult to listen to. Hearing of Lotor's request to meet was not taking priority in Lance's brain over the fact he was stuck in outer space. Call it a primitive reaction, but Lance was struggling to focus on the big picture. Had Shiro already forgotten about him?

"It'll be nice to have you back, Keith."

Lance snorted, only mildly guilty for ruining the sweet comment. Sure, it would have been lovely to have Keith back, if Keith hadn't been a complete idiot and abandoned his teammate. The guilt quickly dissipated. "It'll be nice to get to yell at him again," Lance muttered.

"And Keith? Please remember to collect Lance before you head back."

"Damn straight!" Lance shouted. He knew shouting was pointless, but it felt good to yell, even for a second. With his own voice filling his ears, space didn't feel so vast for a moment.

Lance crossed his arms, making sure he looked properly enraged for when Keith would appear. He focused on arching one eyebrow, a look he had learned from his mother when she was displeased with him and his siblings. It used to strike fear into his heart, now he would use its powers for justice teach Keith a lesson about irrational thinking.

The fear in his chest was threatening to extinguish the anger: he needed to distract himself. "I can't believe how stupid you can be, Keith. Honestly, you may have been the Garrison's best pilot, but you're a total jock! Let in for your skill, any forward thinking be damned!"

Lance wasn't entirely sure he believed what he was saying, at least not 100% of it, and knew he would more than likely apologize for it later. But he would wait until he had at least received his heartfelt apology from Keith first.

Yet strangely the harsh words earned no response. Keith was ignoring him, and Lance felt as though lighter fluid had been thrown onto the embers of his fury. "You always do this! You're completely selfish in battle: you get tunnel vision and everything else melts away. It doesn't matter who gets hurt, who gets left behind, who gets put in danger. Your goal is all you care about."

As Lance spoke, he felt the volume in his throat build: the panic, the anger, the fear. Each emotion fought for dominance, amplifying his words. He needed to expel them, feeling them fuse as he spoke. "I'm supposed to be your teammate, your friend. You're supposed to stand by me!"

The silence after that last loud sentence was deafening. Still Keith didn't reply: Lance didn't know if he had managed to guilt him into submission, and he didn't care. Not right now. Not when he felt so hurt.

When he felt so betrayed.

"I suppose this is what you do," Lance said, his voice back to its normal level. "You leave. You don't think how it will affect anyone. You just up and go, and we're left to deal with the void you've left behind."

Lance had skipped across space to help Keith: he had supported Keith's decision to leave because he thought it would help him be happy. He had stood by Keith - heck, he had become the pilot of the red lion, Keith's literal right-hand man! He had had to leave Blue behind. He had given so much, and the hurt of just being dumped because it suited Keith slashed viciously inside his chest.

"We should trust that we'll be there for each other."

Again silence met Lance's ears. Still no apology, no reassurance of their friendship. Not even breathing. Not even static.

Wait.

Lance couldn't hear any static crackling.

"Keith?"

Was his intercom turned off? Keith could mute him, sure, but the intercom would still be turned on, still crackling quietly in the background.

"Keith?"

New panic blossomed in his gut.

Lance activated his jet pack, spinning a full 360 in an effort to work out what was going on. Something, somewhere, was blocking his intercom.

As he began to move a brilliant purple light shone out. He covered his eyes with a startled cry: there was no way he could avoid the shot from an ion cannon, there was no time! He shut his eyes, bracing for an impact he knew he couldn't survive.

No impact came.

He edged his eyes open a crack, surprised to find himself bathed in purple light. It surrounded him, tinted his vision with its glow. Lance's hands fell away from his face: the light touched everything he could see. He tried to activate his jet pack to look further, but it wouldn't work.

Lance looked up.

"Oh no."

Above him was Lotor's ship.

It was then that his predicament dawned on him: he was currently trapped in a tractor beam.

He could move his limbs but none of his equipment would work. In a panic he felt his arms moving as though he was swimming. He kicked violently, but unsurprisingly it had no affect. He was being sucked up into Lotor's ship, and Keith was no where to be seen.

"Keith! Keith!" He screamed his name, his voice growing hoarse. He didn't know what else to do.

Lance reached for his bayard, but the weapon refused to enter into it's rifle state. He looked hopefully to the Blade of Marmora knife in his hand, but the weapon revealed no plan to help him out of this situation.

Where was a talking knife full of ideas when you needed one?

The ship was drawing terrifyingly close, its bay door opening in preparation for his arrival.

Panic ran rampant, thoughts of Shiro's imprisonment morphing into nightmares before his eyes. Would that happen to him? Would Lance lose an arm, a leg? Be experimented on, have to fight gladiators?

Would he die in the ring, a faceless slave providing entertainment to the crowd? Or would they know of him as the blue paladin of Voltron, ridicule him to make the empire appear stronger?

He wasn't as smart as Shiro - he would never escape. He would spend the rest of his life as a prisoner of the Galra empire.

No, not a prisoner of the Galra. Just a prisoner of their disgraced prince.

Much better.

He felt curses blossom anew in his throat: he had no idea if Lotor could hear him, and he didn't care. Again the anger held the fear at bay, and he wasn't about to let Lotor see him afraid.

He realised Lotor probably wouldn't know what half the things that Lance was calling him were. It didn't matter, he would get the gist.

The tractor beam carried him right through the bay doors, holding him in the air. The doors shut below him with a hiss, and suddenly the purple beam was gone and Lance was falling. He was a second too late in activating his jet pack as he crashed into the ground with a groan. The ship below him hummed quietly, and he felt them start to move away incredibly quickly.

"Keith? Keith!" Lance couldn't stop himself, he had to keep trying. He continued to shout his name as he searched the bay, looking for an exit, some way to open the doors again. Better to fling himself out into empty space than stay here and continue to be dragged away.

"Keith! I'm in Lotor's ship. I need you to come get me."

The bay was relatively small, the room sparse. Lance found the door to the rest of the ship with relative ease, but of course it was locked, melded seamlessly with the wall.

"I can't do it by myself," Lance admitted. "I need your help."

There was no getting out of the room, that much was clear. Next plan: set up a defense.

With so little in the room to work with, Lance set himself up in the corner furthest from the door. He activated his shield, holding it protectively in front of him while trying to juggle his rifle. He would usually use two hands on the gun and trust the other paladins to shield him, but he didn't have that luxury right now.

The Blade of Marmora knife was attached securely to his belt. He would be damned if he managed to lose it now, after everything he had been through to get it.

"Lance?" Keith's voice rang through Lance's ears suddenly. His defense fell apart for a second, surprised at the revival of his intercom.

"Keith? Keith, oh my god am I glad to hear your voice!"

"Lance, this isn't funny."

"What? I know that. Listen: I'm stuck on Lotor's ship. I need help!"

"I'm sorry, okay? I stand by that I didn't abandon you, but I'm sorry you felt abandoned."

"Keith? Keith?"

Could Keith not hear him? Was communication still blocked?

Had Keith completely dodged his apology?!

Not important...

Lance's yelling was futile: Keith couldn't hear him.

Did Keith seriously think that Lance was petty enough to hide from him? To be honest he might have been, but where was he supposed to hide, he had left him in the middle of nowhere!

"Come on, Lancey Lance."

How dare he! Only Blue could call him that. How did Keith have this ability to infuriate him so when he had bigger problems to deal with?

"Blue paladin, I suggest you lower your weapon." Lotor's voice rang out and Lance felt his body grow rigid. "I'm not going to harm you. In fact, all I really want is a talk."

"This is a funny way to have a talk," Lance yelled, unsure Lotor could hear him. "Next time, maybe just try asking nicely?"

"Ah good, you're the one with a sense of humour." The door opened and Lotor strolled in, surrounded in a strange, tiny particle barrier that encased his body in a purple dome. As he strode into the room the barrier moved with him.

"Lance? Come on, this isn't funny." Keith's voice crackled through.

Undettered, Lance let a volley of shots loose. All connected with the portable barrier (he was a master sharpshooter after all). All had absolutely no effect before they quickly dissipated.

"Can we not be civilised?" Lotor calmly continued towards Lance.

The guy looked exactly as Lance had imagined. Only he was a lot prettier than Lance would have thought, considering who his father was.

And that hair.

Lance couldn't lie, it was glorious.

"Stop messing around." Keith was finally beginning to actually sound panicked.

Lotor stopped an arm's length away, the particle barrier almost touching Lance's shield. They stayed in silence for several moments. Lotor was infuriatingly casual, calmly staring at Lance, taking in his protective stance and the rifle aimed at him.

"I am Prince Lotor, son of Emperor Zarkon and heir to the Galra empire." Lotor smirked.

"Don't you mean the former prince? I seem to recall you attacking a Galra battle cruiser not too long ago. Not to mention stealing the comet from the Galra empire. It seems you have no loyalties."

Lotor chuckled. "My loyalties are to myself."

Lance was prepared with another witty retort, only the scene before him seemed to melt away for a moment. The hanger, the prince, it all faded as a familiar presence enveloped him.

The sense of companionship overwhelmed him, the smell of sweat and books filling his nostrils. He froze, feeling as though Keith were right next to him, yet was nowhere to be seen.

Lotor saw the break in concentration and acted. The particle barrier dropped and he sprung, ripping the bayard from Lance's stunned hands and throwing it across the hangar. As the brief sense of Keith faded, Lance found himself pressed against the wall of the hangar, head being pushed back by Lotor's forearm, Keith's knife already pulled from it's sheath and cast to the floor.

"Quiznak!" Keith shouted. "Damn it!"

Lance had no option but to stare into his eyes, too scared to say anything. He was completely disconnected from the situation, the brief appearance of Keith's...aura having distracted him.

"I am not looking for a fight, paladin," Lotor assured. "In fact, I require your assistance."


	5. Chapter 5

Lance peered at Lotor down the bridge of his nose, his neck pushed back at an uncomfortable angle. The guy simply oozed confidence, holding Lance securely in place with the barest of efforts.

"This isn't how you ask for help," Lance said, his Adams apple straining against his distorted throat.

"We both know you paladins would never agree to help me: we have too much ill history." Lotor's smirk never shifted from his face: as he spoke it curled around his words, taunting and infuriating in its surety. "You would never trust me enough to allow me to get so close."

"Definitely not." The sarcasm in Lance's voice astounded him: he was in a dire situation, and yet he could not reign in his exasperated tone. "Especially not after you saved our butts destroying Haggar's battle cruiser and, in doing so, saved not only the paladins or the rebel fighters, but also the better part of a solar system. You're right, we would never have allowed the meeting that _you_ asked for."

Sometimes Lance wished he could physically zip his mouth shut so he could stop himself talking when he was angry. Lotor's brow furrowed and he backed away, letting Lance's head snap back into place painfully.

"You may have allowed a meeting, but let's be honest here." Lotor fiddled with a device on his arm and in an instant his personal particle barrier was back up and running. "It would have been a formal meeting where we agreed we weren't eachothers problems anymore: we both have bigger fish to fry now. But it would be naïve to think it would go any further than that. There would be no helping eachother, no sharing information. We cannot trust one another, it's just not possible. I would not get what I want, and it would simply waste my time attempting to convince you."

Anger boiled in Lance's stomach, "So why bother suggesting a meeting in the first place then!?"

He crossed his arms, still hiding behind his barrier. Lance kept his shield held high: He doubted Lotor would try to hurt him after all this, but he refused to leave himself vulnerable while Lotor addressed him through an impenetrable barrier. He felt this evened the scales slightly.

"I mainly wanted a chance to talk to the princess, in private," he said.

Lance snorted a laugh, "You really thought we would leave you alone with her?"

Lotor scowled, his brow furrowing. "Of course not. But I was to take any opportunity presented." He paused for a moment, weighing up the sight before him. Slowly, maintaining eye contact, he touched his wrist and the barrier disappeared. Leaning back, Lotor pressed his back to the wall behind him and crossed his arms. "Must we talk with such hostility?" He said, leisurely. "Please, lower your shield."

It was a request laced with the weight of an order. Lance felt his arm quiver for a second as his instinct to follow authority kicked in. But he remained in his defensive position.

Lotor sighed. "I knew I most likely wouldn't get anywhere near the princess. I knew that such an opportunity would be nothing short of a miracle. But that wasn't my only reason for wanting to visit the castle of lions. My generals had delivered some very interesting information to me that I wanted to fact check."

Despite himself, Lance felt his interest pique. What had he heard, what had the generals picked up on during their brief interaction?

"Information concerning you, blue paladin."

Lotor grew silent, watching for Lance' s reaction.

There wasn't much of one. Lance felt the cogs in his brain grind to a halt under this surprising information. What had Lotor heard about him? He couldn't think of any secret he held: Lance was pretty much an open book.

"What do you mean?" He heard himself ask.

Lotor continued to smirk, but said no more.

They stayed in tense silence for a few moments before Lance realised that if he wanted to hear anything else he was going to have to play Lotor's game. He deactivated his shield and straightened up, keeping his back to the wall.

He held his hand out, "My bayard, if you would."

Lotor seemed pleased with his reaction, extending the his arm in a similar fashion to that of an olive branch. Lance took back the bayard and returned it to his suit, continuing to play nice. He knelt down and grabbed Keith's blade for good measure.

"Shall we head upstairs?" Lotor asked. "The ship is on autopilot, but I really should be overseeing our journey."

Lance gave a tense nod. Heading to the control room was a good plan: with his weapons returned and Lotor's metaphorical, and physical, guard lowered he had a chance to turn the tide. Overpower Lotor, take control of the ship, somehow contact the team. Should be easy.

The two walked up to the control room, Lance lagging behind, always keeping Lotor in his line of sight. The galran prince was awfully trustworthy, considering he had turned his back on an armed prisoner. Lance recognised the obvious opening and did not take it: Lotor wasn't stupid. If Lance tried to act here he had no doubt that he would lose.

He had no idea what would happen if he lost, and he didn't fancy finding out.

Once he realised that he wasn't going to get an answer, Keith had diminished from screaming and swearing in Lance's ear to intermittent, frustrated groans. Lance guessed the guy was scouring space in Red, looking for a tiny blue spec on his monitor.

Lance felt bad: he knew he had to get out of here as quickly as possible, before the team started worrying.

Had Keith told them yet? Or was he waiting to see if he could track Lance down first?

Lance stifled a sigh. This had been a particularly difficult day: between getting trapped on Naxzella, almost being blown up, trying to save Keith, thinking he had killed Keith, getting captured by Lotor…

He needed a facemask, and a nap. In that order.

They entered the control room, and Lance had one thought.

What was the Galra's fascination with the colour purple?

He was quickly starting to miss the comforting blue glow of the Altean ship. Though why aliens required coloured light for everything he couldn't understand: why not just use good old white light like back on Earth?

Lotor sat down in the centre chair, double checking the ships progress before swivelling back to face Lance.

The only way the guy could look more like a supervillain was if he had a cat in his lap.

Lance was getting frustrated: he was left to stand in the centre of the room with his arms crossed, and Lotor was content to remain silent. Not even offer Lance a seat. Those prince-like manners had quickly disappeared.

He couldn't take the silence: this silly little game was working, and Lance was thoroughly irritated. "You said you had some information concerning me?"

"You really don't know." Lotor shook his head, almost talking to himself in disbelief.

Lance didn't say anything, attempting to stare Lotor down.

Lotor chuckled. "My generals reported a strange energy emanating from you. A normal human, they assured me. There was nothing remarkable about you, except that energy. What they were suggesting…it was impossible."

The stare down between the two of them was making Lance very uncomfortable. Lotor was scrutinising every inch of him as he spoke, still revealing no answers.

"So I thought I should meet you for myself, confirm whatever it was they were trying to say. I would travel to the Castle of Lions under the guise of a white flag, and get close enough to you to find out if I sensed what they did."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Lance said honestly, an eyebrow arching.

"Exactly." Lotor shifted in his seat, leaning forwards and resting his arms on his legs. "Either the paladins were keeping it a secret, or you all really had no idea, Which was difficult to accept, since my generals had sensed it within moments of being in your presence. How had your entire team missed what they had gleaned so quickly?"

"Or perhaps your generals were wrong," Lance bit.

Lotor nodded slowly, "Very plausible. Hence why I wanted to meet you, and decide for myself."

"But instead of setting up a meeting, you decided the best course of action would be to abduct me?"

"This wasn't originally part of the plan." Lotor sat back in his seat and swivelled back to the control screens, updating their progress. Lance walked forwards, refusing to have his back turned on him.

"There's nothing special about me."

"You humans are so funny," Lotor chuckled. "I never said you were special, just that there was something odd about you."

Okay, that smarted his ego just a tad. "Well there isn't anything odd about me, as you can clearly see," Lance snapped. He threw his arms out wide so Lotor could get a decent look. "So sorry for wasting your time, you can let me out here. I have a buddy who can give me a ride home."

Lotor turned his head to him, abandoning the control screens he had so intently been staring at. "I saw what you did," he announced calmly.

Somehow Lance continued to get even more confused.

"I was going to calmly observe you when we signed some treaty of peace," Lotor continued, "And decide for myself. Then I saw you appear on the battlefield. Felt your presence burst through space itself and appear from a wormhole." He cocked his head, narrowed his eyes, "Allura didn't open that wormhole, did she?"

Lance's voice stuttered in his throat. "I- I-"

"And in a lion, no less. I was astounded, if I'm being honest. At first I considered that the Castle had opened a wormhole for you." Lance tried not to squirm as Lotor's piercing gaze continued to probe him like a specimen in a lab. "But then I remembered all that silly propaganda the rebels had been releasing: Princess Allura is now a paladin. And it occurred to me, how could she open a wormhole for you if she was piloting the blue lion? She was nowhere near the Castle, had no access to the teladuv." Lotor stood, as though he couldn't bear to be still as he connected the dots. "What you did, it was not possible."

Lance backed away, his hand reaching down in preparation for needing his bayard.

"How did you get there, blue paladin?" Lotor pressed.

"I don't know!"

"How did you skip so far across space in one of the Voltron lions? How did you summon a wormhole, all on your own?"

"Why don't you tell me?" Lance's voice was hot in his throat, his voice swelling with frustration. "Since you apparently have all the answers - just tell me!"

Lotor shook his head, "It's not possible, and yet you did it. And I found myself believing the wild tales my generals had told me. An impossible paladin."

In a knee jerk reaction Lance was gripping his bayard fiercely. He willed it to not enter its rifle setting, at least not yet: he knew he couldn't beat Lotor with odds as they were. But holding it brought him a moment of calm, helped to ground him in the storm of confusion Lotor was conjuring.

Lotor's eyes flicked to the possible weapon for a second. "It was then that the meeting became essential. I needed to study you up close. But, like Allura, you would not be easy to get close to. You paladins, you all watch each others backs. It was going to take a lot of planning."

"And then suddenly, there you were. Floating out in empty space, leaving your lion behind in some strange quest for a trinket. No lion to get past, no Voltron. Just one, single team mate to distract. I'm not one to pass up on such an opportunity."

Lotor sat back down, seemingly thinking he was done explaining. He focused in on the screens. "Wont be much longer," He mumbled.

Lance was frozen. He didn't know what to do, what to make of what Lotor had said. Lotor's speech held weight, yet Lance still didn't understand any of it. He hadn't explained anything. The urge to form his rifle, to point it and force answers out of Lotor, was overwhelming. Lance's head was swimming.

"What is it about me?" Lance said quietly, "In your mind, what can I do that will help you."

Lance wouldn't help him, he knew that in himself. But he would be damned if he went through this experience and Lotor still retained all the answers.

The smirk returned. "Tell me about your parents."


	6. Chapter 6

The team stood in stunned silence, staring at Keith in disbelief. Their five gazes were heavy and hard to meet. Keith avoided them, ashamed, his eyes not leaving the ground before him.

"He's gone?" Hunk said quietly.

Keith's arms crossed across his chest, feeling himself turning defensive. The scrutiny of their gazes was too much to bear, he felt like he was going to snap.

 _Deep breath: the team have a right to be disappointed. You lost Lance._

 _You lost Lance._

The three words still stung.

He had taken over Lance's lion, had let Lance leave to collect _his_ knife. Quiznak, Lance was only there because Keith had attempted a stupid kamikaze mission.

Keith should have insisted that Lance fly Red: he had no claim to him now. Lance belonged as the right hand of Voltron - just because Keith missed being a part of the team doesn't mean that he can take over Red whenever he felt like it.

He had chosen to leave. He had no right to accept Lance's offer. He was supposed to stand quietly in the background and provide support: it was all he was good for now.

His mind took him back to his bedroom, where Lance had opened up to him about his insecurities. Keith couldn't believe it at the time: Lance's calm rationalisation of why he wasn't a valuable member of the team. Keith remembered standing stunned as the other boy talked himself out of Voltron as though he were nothing.

Lance had put up a front, saying it was what was best for the team. Had literally ticked off everyone's roles until Team Voltron was full and he was left standing on the outside by himself. He had paraded the conversation as battle necessity, that he was being level headed and doing the best for the team.

But it was clear to Keith where the words were truly coming from. Behind all that bravado, Keith knew there were insecurities hidden deep within Lance. Insecurities that were telling him he wasn't good enough.

Keith recognised them. Keith had been hearing those voices for as long as he could remember.

Telling him he wasn't fit to be a leader. Telling him that he wasn't Shiro, that he could never be good enough to lead Voltron. He was a hot head, he had a temper and he acted irrationally. He was no good for the team.

As Lance spoke, Keith had only one thought: he couldn't leave. Lance couldn't just back out of the team, they relied on him too much. He brought calm, and laughter - he had the ability to talk anyone down from the ledge of making a bad decision. Heck, from what Keith had been told, the only reason Voltron had escaped Naxzella was because Lance managed to calm Allura down enough to be able to take action.

He had convinced Lance that the team needed him. He had stopped Lance from leaving the team.

Keith had failed to convince himself.

And Keith had left the team, the same thing he had told Lance was a ridiculous idea.

Keith had been too close, he hadn't seen the similarities between the two of them. He felt bad: Lance must think he was such a hypocrite.

But standing here now, Keith knew he had been right. He was poison to Voltron, tearing the team apart again and again with his impatience. He was bad for Voltron, bad for the universe.

Not like Lance.

Lance's presence was calming. He knew when to take a step back and breathe. He knew how to make Keith do the same thing. He was the greatest defence against Keith destroying Voltron. He was the first paladin, the bond between Blue and him the strongest of any of them.

Before Keith had attempted to become a leader, and ended up ripping them apart.

He could calm Hunk's nervousness with a few choice words, ease Pidge's frustration when dealing with a difficult piece of tech. He was there when the team was exhausted and irritated, and he could set them back on course in a matter of minutes.

Voltron could not survive without Lance. That much was clear.

"He's not gone," Keith snapped. "He was taken."

"I'm going to try and track his helmet," Pidge announced, leaving the horde and plopping down in front of a computer.

"He isn't answering! The signal has been blocked." Keith's exasperation was threatening to spill over. He had considered this, had already experienced the disbelief. He was having to go through losing Lance all over again, experience it fresh as he told them, and the shame built with every minute that passed.

Pidge didn't answer, already lost to their tech.

"Keith, calm down," Shiro said, stepping forward as though to place a hand on his shoulder.

Keith flinched away: the last thing he deserved right now was Shiro comforting him. This was all his fault, why couldn't they see that?

Shiro paused, meeting his gaze. "There's nothing you could have done," He assured.

There was a million things he could have done! Time and time again he was blinded by selfishness and people got hurt.

"What would Lotor want with Lance?" Hunk asked, concern clear on his face.

"I don't know," Allura said honestly, hugging her elbows. "But it must be important if he has ignored the opportunity of a truce with the rebels. He's currently an enemy to both sides of the fight: no matter where he goes, he is going to encounter foes. He's given up a lot just to get ahold of Lance."

"Lotor is an enemy to the entire universe," Hunk said. "What happens when he runs into the wrong crowd? Lance could get caught right in the middle?"

"Lance will be fine," Shiro promised.

"He's trapped with the one of the most disliked people in the universe. Lotor has painted a target on his back: we need to get him back before he gets caught in the crossfire!"

Shame burned in Keith, keeping him held in place as it flooded through his bloodstream. His muscles were seizing up and he couldn't think: he was stuck imagining Lance stuck between the galra prince and one of his countless enemies, Lotor using him as a human shield.

"What if Lotor wants to trade him to his father in a plea for forgiveness?" Hunk suggested with a dark tone. The air in the room grew heavy at the thought of Lance being handed over to the Galra. Shiro's prosthetic curled into a fist.

"The Galra are not quick to forgive," Allura said.

Coran nodded in agreement. "Zarkon will not back down from his stance on Lotor, not now. Besides, Zarkon is after the lions, not the paladins." Coran's matter of fact tone stung.

But Shiro spoke up. "Exactly. Paladins can be replaced."

Awkwardness stirred as Keith felt them turn back to him, Shiro's failed replacement.

"Lotor knows he will not find sanctuary amongst the Galra ranks," Allura assured Hunk, trying to calm him. "Whatever reason he has taken Lance, he will need him kept safe."

"The Princess is right," Coran said. "Back in my day, the Galra were renowned for their fair treatment of prisoners of war. In fact…." Coran's eyes traced over Shiro and his voice trailed off, looking sheepish.

Team Voltron were experiencing new levels of awkwardness today.

"Guys!" Pidge's startling shout spurred the team into action, racing towards the screen. Keith hung back: although he was desperate to hear news about Lance he felt uncomfortable with the team. This was the first time he had seen them in months, he wasn't sure how he fit with them now, especially since he caused this whole mess.

The team had descended into a shoving mass, each crowding close to Pidge to get a close look at the screen. Pidge gave an exasperated sigh and pressed a button.

The room changed. The lights dimmed as the glowing blue and purple of the Altean map filled the space of the room, planets mere specs of colour, floating peacefully. The team stepped back from Pidge, looking around in wonder, trying to find whatever had prompted Pidge to get their attention.

Keith still stood alone, sectioned off in a slice of space separate from the team. He turned slowly, taking in the clusters of solar systems at his fingertips.

"Hang on," Pidge announced. The universe blurred, lines of colour rushing past as Pidge focused in on a section of space. The effect was nauseating, the whole world rushing past Keith's eyes, making him feel unsteady on his feet.

The planets that had appeared as mere specs a moment before were now basketball sized, spinning gently with their various moons.

"Where-" Hunk began to ask, but Keith spotted it. The flashing red lion insignia, travelling slowly through a purple field of debris. Keith walked towards it, the planets his body encountered bursting into purple stardust as he passed through, forming again behind him.

Lance was in Galra territory.

"Why would Lotor go here?" He asked, bemused. "Why not to some neutral section of space? Is he looking for a fight?"

He turned to face the team who had barely moved from Pidge's side. Shiro and Allura were staring intently, lost in their thoughts. Hunk was attempting to subtly watch Coran, not that the older Altean would have noticed. He was stood shock still, his face pale and waxen as though he was staring at a ghost.

"That's Daibazaal." Shiro announced, his voice uneasy.

"The Galran homeworld?" Keith asked. "Why would Lotor go there?"

"That," Allura paused for a moment, as though struggling to talk around the lump in her throat, "Is a very good question."

The red insignia had stopped moving, floating gently amongst the field of the destroyed planet. It was hard for Keith to imagine what the planet once looked like, before the Alteans had been forced to destroy it. He thought he should have some kind of connection to it, to this place where his ancestors had been born, raised. Instead he felt nothing, utterly indifferent to the mass of rubble.

For a moment, Keith swore he saw Lance's signal flicker.

"We need to get to the lions," Shiro ordered. "Allura, bring up a wormhole and then make your way to the Blue Lion. We have no idea how long they will be stopped for, we need to take advantage of this."

Everyone nodded tersely. Keith heard them beginning to exit the room, disturbed planets casting shadows as the paladins walked through them.

Keith didn't move: he was sure the signal had weakened for a second. Was Lotor working to block them out again?

"Keith." Shiro's authoritative voice cut through. "You need to get to the Red Lion. We need you buddy."

There. Again. The signal flickered again.

"Guys, there's something wrong with the signal."

"All the more reason to get moving," Shiro said. Keith could hear him walking closer, trying to jar him into action.

But Keith felt that there was something more to this. He moved closer to the destroyed home of the Galra. "Pidge, enlarge the image."

Despite Shiro's orders, the team had not dispersed, caught up in watching what Keith was up to. In a moment, Diabazaal filled the room, huge chunks of rock floating alongside Keith. He pressed forwards, weaving through the debris until he was within reaching distance of the red signal.

The signal flickered violently, disappearing for a second, and Keith's breath caught in his throat. "Pidge, stabilize the signal!"

"I can't!" They said, frustrated. "Something is interfering with our monitors. We're going to lose him."

"We need to move!" Shiro's voice grew louder as panic settled upon the team.

"Wait-" Keith pressed.

"We have waited! We're going to lose him."

Keith was transfixed, he couldn't move, he couldn't think. He knew this was stupid, he knew he was wasting time. But…but…

The signal's flashing sped up, almost as fast as Keith's pounding heartbeat.

"Keith!"

Shiro was right: Keith was being stupid. The frantic flashing spurred something in him.

"We need to go," He admitted quietly. He turned, feeling stupid for wasting their time.

A familiar yell filled the tense room, grinding everyone to a stop.

It came again, louder. Twisting in Keith's gut, letting lose a storm of panic and anger.

"QUIZNAK!" Lance screamed, the bite of the swear pulling at Keith.

"What the-?" Pidge yelled.

Lance's voice was bursting through the room's speakers.

"Lance?!" Keith shouted, turning back to the insignia.

The small, red signal had evolved, tripled in size and was a pure, glowing white. It was flashing like a strobe light, hurting Keith's eyes.

"Ahh! Keith?" The yell morphed into his name. He was so stunned he almost missed it.

"LANCE?" He shouted back, moving closer to the insignia. "Can you hear me!?"

"Yes!" Lance's voice was strained, Keith could tell he was trying to hold back further screams.

The pulsing insignia continued to grow. "Are you okay?"

"Obviously not!"

"We're coming. We'll be right there."

"No-"

"Yes!"

"No time!"

"What's happening?" Shiro shouted. Keith was reaching for the insignia, the crazy notion that he could use it to connect to Lance again, to let him know that he was there, that it would be okay.

"Lotor…he-" Lance's words dissolved into a string of breathless swears, most of them in Spanish.

The insignia was burning Keith's retinas, but he couldn't look away.

"You can't follow us." Lance said, fighting to sound calm and reasonable.

"WHAT!?" The team collectively yelled.

"Don't follow us," Lance pressed. "You need to destroy it. You can't-"

"Lance? Lance!"

Lance's voice tore itself apart, words replaced by primal screams. The insignia pulsed wilder and wilder. Keith reached for it, tried to grasp it.

"Lance? I'm going to find you." Keith's voice was barely a whisper. He had no idea if Lance could even hear him anymore, but he couldn't bring himself to speak any louder. "I promise this time. I will bring you back."

His fingertips brushed the glowing insignia. Like the planets, its light scattered, enveloping Keith in its white glow. He closed his eyes, the light finally too much for him.

Everything suddenly went dark. He opened his eyes a fraction.

The signal had disappeared.

The room had grown silent.

There one second, gone the next. Nothing left but a bunch of floating, purple rocks.


	7. Chapter 7

The urge to withhold the information just to spite Lotor was tempting, but Lance decided his best route at the moment was co-operation. Either Lotor would get whatever it is he was looking for, or Lance would find a chance to escape.

So he was going to stall.

Besides, his parents were on the other side of the universe. Normal people working normal jobs – there was nothing he could tell Lotor about them that could cause anyone harm.

He returned his bayard to his suit, and crossed his arms. "My mum and dad are Cuban. I lived with them and my siblings in Varadero until I was admitted into the Garrison to train as a pilot."

"Ah, Varadero." Lotor said thoughtfully. "A resort town for humans to escape to and relax. Hotels, spas, golf courses. Sounds lovely, if you like that kind of thing."

Lance felt himself bristle at the blasé labelling Lotor had applied to his home. He had no idea of the life in Varadero, the atmosphere, the people. The opportunities to meet people from all over the world, spending a full weekend on the beach, living in such a tight knit community. Outside of his parent's house, Lance knew his true family extended throughout the whole town.

"You've done your homework," He managed to say through gritted teeth.

"I wanted to know more about you. But I didn't ask about your life on Earth, I want to know more about your family."

Lance sighed. Family was something he had tried to keep locked away since he left Earth. It simply hurt too much to think about everyone he had left behind. His homesickness was bad enough when he was at the Garrison – it was something he couldn't face all the way out here.

"My mother was a chef at one of the restaurants in the centre of the town, my father was a scuba instructor. In the summer months my siblings and I would help in the shop: maintaining equipment, helping on dives, taking-"

Lotor held his hand up to halt him. "We're getting off topic. Where were your parents born?"

Lance had to bite his tongue for a moment to keep it from lashing out. He wasn't in the position of power here. Just keep talking.

"My mother was born in Varadero. She's spent her whole life there, with my grandmother. My grandmother moved in with us when my grandfather passed away, she helps take care of us when my parents are working." Lance couldn't help the small smile on his lips. He was trying to remain stoic but remembering his grandmother was breaking him down: a woman who, although small in stature, had the fieriest temper Lance had ever had the misfortune of bearing witness to. He felt his hard contract painfully at the memory of everyone he had left behind.

"Uh huh," Lotor waved him on impatiently. "And your grandfather?"

Lance glared at him. "From Havana. Died when I was young."

"Okay. Your father?"

"Grew up in Jacksonville, Florida. His mother was evacuated to Miami when she was a teenager as the communist government was being established. When she and my other grandfather passed away, my dad decided to make the move back to Cuba."

His father's smile flashed in Lance's memory. His mother, like her own, was short, her hair always fiercely pulled back, a habit learned from years of slaving away in professional kitchens. His father, however, wore his hair long, past his shoulders, and loose. He was an exceptionally tall man, always having to bend down to kiss his mother. Lance was always regarded as tall, but he only just reached the height of his father's shoulders.

"Does your dad speak Spanish?" Lotor's voice pulled him from his memories.

Lance nodded – his whole family did. Hell, his grandmother outright refused to speak to them in English.

"I suppose he has a strange accent though?"

Lance raised an eyebrow. "Of course he does. He was raised in Florida."

"Does he sound Floridian then?"

Here Lance stuttered. He was ready to say yes, but something stopped him. As Lotor had, Lance found himself questioning his father's accent for the first time. It wasn't noticeable when he spoke in English, but the strange lilt came through whenever the man spoke Spanish.

Lance couldn't actually be sure where that accent would come from.

"Does he sound like he learned his Spanish from a mother speaking her native tongue?"

Again Lance hesitated.

"What are you trying to get at?" Lance asked suspiciously.

Lotor reached under the computer in front of him, bringing out a clear, glass orb about the size of a soccer ball. Lotor stood, weighing the orb in his hands. "I am curious." He finally said.

"About what?"

Before Lance could blink Lotor threw the orb at him. Instinctively Lance caught the orb before it could hit him in the chest.

"Hey-"

Lotor's face split into a wide grin. "Interesting."

"Wha-"

As Lance spoke, he saw what Lotor had reacted to. The glass orb in his hands was steadily glowing white, growing brighter as Lance held on. In fright, Lance let go of it.

It stayed in his hands.

He shook it, trying to make it fall, but the thing was bonded to his hands and he couldn't let go.

"What is this?" He asked.

"A test," Lotor said nonchalantly.

"A test for what?"

"To see if your father was a liar."

Lance couldn't hold it back anymore. The floodgates opened and anger burned through him, "Who are you to-"

The computer pinged loudly and the ship slowed to a stop. Lotor turned back to the screens, ignoring Lance once again.

"Hey, I'm talking to you!" Lance shouted. The stupid orb would not leave his hands and the glowing light was starting to hurt his eyes. No matter where he looked, the edge of his vision was cast in a light blue light. He stomped towards Lotor, trying to see what had captured his attention.

"We're here," Lotor announced.

Lance looked out to only see a field of debris. "Where?"

"The Galran homeworld." Lotor sat back with a satisfied smile. "Blue Paladin, welcome to Diabazaal."

Suspicion bloomed in Lance's stomach. "What are we doing here?"

Lotor stood, ascending on him. Lance stepped back quickly, taking his strange glowing orb with him. "Stay back," Lance warned. He didn't know what Lotor had planned, but he was going to keep his distance. His hands were beginning to grow hot, prickling with pins and needles where they touched the glass.

"We're going to open the rift," said Lotor, grinning maniacally.

"We're what!?"

"You and I, we are going to reopen the rift that destroyed Diabazaal. And we will uncover an endless supply of quintessence."

Lotor stepped ever closer. "Don't you see? The Galra are destroying the universe in the search for quintessence. If I give it to them, the wars will stop."

"You're crazy," Lance said.

Lotor shook his head. "All I want is peace. That's what you fight for, paladin. It is your duty to help me."

"No."

"Unfortunately, it is no longer your choice. You are already helping me."

Lance looked suspiciously to the orb. "What is this?" He asked again.

"It is a device for harnessing quintessence. It draws it out of those who possess vast quantities of it and stores it for use."

Lotor stepped forward as Lance was inspecting the glass, staring at the quintessence building there regardless of how it hurt his eyes. Before he could move away, Lotor had his hands on the orb as well. Lance tried to pull away, but like his Lotor's hands were now bonded to the glass.

"What are you doing?"

"As half-breeds, you and I have access to the universe's quintessence. We can't weild as much at once as someone like Allura, but together it should be enough."

"Half breeds?" Lance choked out.

"I tried to open the rift once." Lotor was beginning to monologue. "But I simply don't possess the quintessence to do so alone. I thought Allura was my answer, but now…"

"What do you mean, half-breeds?" Lance shouted. The heat in his hands was beginning to grow painful, it was getting hard to concentrate.

"Think, Lance," Lotor said calmly. At this distance Lance felt small, the Galran prince towering over him. "You're telling me you've never felt misplaced in your life, never felt like you don't quite belong."

"I- I-" Lance couldn't argue with him, but everyone has feelings like that once in a while.

Don't they?

"I know you have, because that's how I have felt my entire life."

Lotor paused, maintaining eye contact. "You're not human, Lance. Not entirely, anyway."

Pain seared through his fingertips, across his palms. Lance found himself screaming. "That's not true!"

"You know it is. This wouldn't be possible if it wasn't"

"Lotor," Lance gasped through the pain. "You're going to destroy the universe doing this. It destroyed a planet last time. You need to stop this."

"This is the answer," Lotor pressed.

"You're going to kill us all!"

"I will save us all! We can stop the viral spread of the Galra. This way, my people are saved, as are yours. We can avoid the bloodshed. This is a risk we have to take!"

Lance had to stop him. Somehow.

The computer.

As he stepped in its direction, Lotor held his ground, their arms straining.

Lance knew he couldn't hope to overpower the prince – the guy was half Galran, those guys were strong.

But if he could break the orb…

Lance stopped pulling away, and instead ran at Lotor, pressing the orb between them and causing them both to crash to the ground. Lotor let out a shocked 'ooft' as they fell.

As Lotor lay stunned for a moment, Lance tried to smash the orb on the ground. He hit it again and again off the floor, but the thing rebounded off without a scratch.

"You can't break it," Lotor said, beginning to wrestle with Lance, trying to stop his struggle.

 _No. No. There must be something._

As he thought, he realised his mouth was moving of its own volition. A string of curse words falling from his lips without pause, a cascade to try and distract from the pain in his hands.

Lotor pounced on him, knocking Lance backwards as he was pinned to the ground. The orb pressed painfully to his chest where it too began to burn. Lance was openly yelling now, his train of thought long gone. The pain was too much. His fingerprints were being burned off, the bright light behind his eyes too much.

He was screaming mercilessly. Swearing endlessly.

"QUIZNAK!" He heard himself yell.

Through the sound of his blood pounding in his ears, Lance somehow heard a familiar voice shout his name.

He tried to bite off his scream. "KEITH!?"

It wasn't possible. He was imagining things.

"LANCE? Can you hear me!?"

"Yes!"

Lotor was staring at him, confused. "Wait-" He didn't let the thought form. He merely acted, leaping forwards to try and remove Lance's helmet. Of course, his hands were bound to the orb too, but his movement briefly winded Lance. He tried to squirm away, refusing to let Lotor try to take Keith's voice away.

"Are you okay?" Keith asked.

"Obviously not!" He spat, struggling to keep Lotor back.

"We're coming. We'll be right there."

Concern twisted in Lance's gut. The team, too close to the exploding rift. Trying to follow them through to a land of mystical monsters. "No-" Lance tried to say but Keith was cutting him off.

"Yes!"

 _Stupid mullet._ "No time!"

The urge to start screaming again was overwhelming. He couldn't breathe.

"What's happening?" Shiro's voice joined.

 _I need to tell them what's going on._

 _I can't stop Lotor. But they can_.

"Lotor…" His chest was contracting. It was too much. "He-"

Everything went black for a moment

When Lance's senses came back to him, the first thing he experienced was a new wave of pain. Then, the cold floor on his cheek.

Lotor was next to him, breathing heavily. He had collapsed.

The coolness on his cheek was a welcome feeling.

Wait…

His helmet!

Lotor had somehow managed to remove it.

It hadn't gone far, and Lance tried to crawl towards it. Lotor hung as dead weight, too weak to try and stop him.

He had to tell the team.

Once he was close enough to hear their distressed voices calling his name, he said, "You can't follow us."

He needed them to listen to him, for once. He needed them to understand – he didn't have the energy left to continue.

"Don't follow us," He said over the shout of their voices. "You need to destroy it.

"You can't-"

That was it. He was done'

The pain that had been building inside exploded, and Lance's throat was wracked by screams.

He was going to die.

No one could survive this,

His vision grew dark, but the shrieks in his ears did not diminish. He felt himself fading away into the darkness, despite the orb glowing like a miniture star in his hands.

"Lance?" Keith's soft voice somehow cut through. "I'm going to find you."

Lance must be imagining it.

"I promise this time."

 _Keith._ He wished to reassure his friend, but he couldn't. His entire body was fried. He was done for.

The ground opened up below him and swallowed him and Lotor whole. The rift, the ship, everything faded away to nothingness, and Lance was lost.

Amid the void, Keith's final words echoed weakly, "I will bring you back." But Lance couldn't hear them. He couldn't do anything but fall.


	8. Chapter 8

He knew he was dreaming.

Kind of.

He wasn't confident enough to declare to the room that this was a dream. But something surreal was resting in his gut, whispering to him that there was something odd with the scene before him. That something wasn't quite right.

The whole team was together, in the same room.

Shiro, Hunk, Pidge, all donning their paladin armour, and lounging on the couch in the castle. Black, yellow, green. They were all smiling widely – he had never seen Shiro look so carefree. Lance couldn't hear what was being said: their mouths moved but no sound came out. Instead, the scene was washed over by the sound of waves crashing against rocks. If he closed his eyes he could see his beloved beach from home stretch before him, almost smell the salt in the air.

Allura stood just back from them in her red armour, getting distracted by the three on the couch as she attempted to hold a serious looking conversation with Coran. They were always talking seriously, Lance remarked. He understood that she was a princess, but Allura was only a little older than him. She was too young to always be tied up in galactic policies and leading revolutions.

They all were.

As she spoke wordlessly, Lance couldn't keep from staring at her. Something was different with her – something was off. Was her hair different? Her ears slightly more pointed than usual? Did she get new earrings?

His focus was broken as he saw three small figures come battering into the room. As though holding a race, the three mice ran across the room towards Allura, climbing up her legs to the apparent finish line: the red helmet she held at her hip. With this, her conversation with Coran crumbled as she brought a hand to her mouth and started to laugh. She brought the helmet towards her to coo at the sweet creatures, three sets of whiskers gently touching her cheek in greeting.

Wait - Three…?

Lance took a step forwards into the room. "Where did the other one go?" He asked, being able to hear his voice quite clearly over the crashing waves.

No one paid him any mind. He stepped closer again and no one reacted, as though they couldn't see him.

Weren't there supposed to be four mice?

Lance began to feel distressed as he his voice grew louder, trying to get anyone's attention. Was this some kind of elaborate prank they had been working on?

"Guys, this isn't funny," He pouted, crossing his arms.

And still no response.

He was standing by Allura at this point, waving a hand in front of her eyes, a breath away from touching her.

"Allura?" His meek voice said.

She didn't see him.

None of them did.

He felt like he had been punched in the stomach, and had to take a step back. Did no one wonder why he wasn't present – did none of them care where he was?

As he stepped back again his back collided with someone. They both fell to the ground with a yelp and an 'oomph', long limbs tangling together as both fought to push the other away. He caught a flash of blue as Lance saw a hand reach to push his face away roughly. He rolled onto the floor, turning to look into Keith's burning eyes a hand's span from his face.

"Watch where you're going," He said viciously.

Stunned, Lance stayed on the ground, staring as Keith pushed to stand. With Keith's voice, the ocean had stilled in Lance's ears and the room was completely silent. The team rushed towards Keith, clearly concerned at the paladin's fall sudden fall, asking their silent questions, voicing their mute concerns.

Keith's gaze continued to bore through him. "What are you even doing here?" He asked with venom in his voice.

"I-"

Keith was wearing the suit of the blue paladin.

Suddenly the sense of unease inside swelled: three mice, Allura in red, Keith in…

What the quiznak was going on?

"Can't you see no one wants you here?" Keith asked. The team surrounding him all stilled and turned to look down at Lance with scathing eyes.

"Wha-"

"We don't need you Lance," Keith smirked. "You've known that for long enough. You're right, for once – we don't need a seventh wheel."

"But… but Blue-"

Keith chuckled. "You being a part of Voltron was a mistake – how can you not see that? You? The first paladin? We can see the lion made a mistake – can't you?

"You aren't supposed to be here, you know that right? Blue wasn't supposed to pick you – as always, even your mere presence causes a disaster."

Lance swallowed around the lump in his throat. "That not true," He said adamantly.

"Really?" Keith stepped closer, leaving the team behind and squatting down to Lance's level. "Without you, the first paladin would have been the person who was actually qualified for the job. I was the best pilot at the garrison, I was the one that had been searching for the lion for months – Blue was calling to _me,_ isn't that clear? She was calling to me for months in that desert. And you got in our way."

"No…no, Blue cares about me."

"Cares about you enough to pawn you off onto another lion the first chance she got?" Keith asked with a raise of an eyebrow.

Lance had nothing to say to that.

Keith gestured behind him, towards Allura clad in red and white armour. "You were the one to get in the way of Allura and Red. You knew how badly she wanted to follow in her father's footsteps, to be the paladin of the red lion. It was all she ever wanted."

"And you got in the way," Allura's voice suddenly rang out.

Keith nodded solemnly, "She finally gets the opportunity to bond with the red lion, and you mess it up again. Step in between her and King Alfor, all for your own personal glory."

"You're lying."

"Am I? Think about it, Lance – think how pleased you were to think you could be my right hand man, how happy you were that you thought I would actually care about your opinion and what you had to say? It's a good thing I left or who knows what would have happened to the team if we had listened to you."

Lance opened his mouth to retort, but like the others no sound came out. He was stunned: he had no defence to what Keith was saying.

What did he really bring to the team anyway?

If he hadn't have been here, Keith would never have felt like he had to leave and join the Blade of Marmora. He wouldn't be constantly distracting Pidge and Hunk when they're trying to work. Or making stupid comments when Shiro and Allura are preparing for battles.

There's no use in a seventh wheel.

"Exactly," Keith smirked. "We are better off without you."

He glanced down and finally noticed the uniform he was wearing. He recognised it from the Garrison.

It was a cargo pilot uniform.

"You're finally where you're supposed to be."

Lance stared down at himself in disbelief – no, this wasn't right. He had worked hard, he had moved up to fighter class, he-

Keith came an inch closer, "Would you like to know something else?"

Before Lance could respond, Keith was at his side, mouth by his ear.

"You only got moved to fighter class because I left," He whispered, "And you know it."

At that Lance felt his eyes widen a split second before he felt his entire chest compress, the air in his lungs being violently purged. He fell backwards onto the ground, the pounding on his chest constant, the sudden pain overwhelming. He was trying to gasp for air as the weight on his chest came again and again, pressing down on his sternum. As soon as he would manage to grasp breath, it was forcefully squeezed out of him.

He tried to cry out, unsure of what was happening. The team were fading from view, Keith lingering by his side. He tried to reach out but Keith ignored him, looking on without mercy at his writhing figure.

Just as Lance thought he couldn't take anymore, the weight disappeared, yet he felt like he still couldn't get any air into his chest: as though the ribs had been crushed and the cavity had caved in.

He was going to suffocate.

Keith suddenly put a hand on his struggling chest, and Lance froze. The boy leaned down and Lance shut his eyes, knowing that he didn't want to hear anything else Keith had to say.

But no scathing words came.

Instead soft, warm lips met his. He froze up in shock as he felt his head being tilted upwards gently. And just as he felt he couldn't hold on anymore, the lips parted and breathed life back into him.

It was at this point that he finally woke up.


	9. Chapter 9

Battered and bruised, Lance made things a million times worse for himself and dissolved into a coughing fit. It was a surprise he could muster any power from his chest at all, considering how much pain he was in.

He rolled onto his side, trying desperately to get his breath back.

"We've got a live one," a male voice to his side said, the accent reminiscent of Earth's English accent.

"Make that two," a female voice answered with the same accent. Lance peered over to see Lotor lying on his back, breathing heavily, eyes still firmly closed. The bottom of his vision was tinged blue and he rubbed at his eyes, trying to get them back in focus. His head felt groggy, and his fingertips were still tingling.

The orb that had caused him so much pain lay lifeless between him and the prince, now void of any mystical energy. An empty, glass ball.

"Can you stand?" A hand appeared at his side, and gratefully he took it, relying heavily on it to help him get back to his feet. He turned to thank the stranger beside him, now noticing just how painful and dry his throat was. Must have been from all the screaming…

"Tha-" His sentence died on his tongue as he took in the person who had helped them.

He was tall, taller than Lance, with dark skin and the most mesmerising green eyes. Atop his head was a shock of white hair, styled in what Lance could only describe as a pixie cut (mainly because the guy literally looked like a fairy and Lance couldn't think of any non-fae related descriptions. He reminded Lance vaguely of the elves in his Grandmother's favourite movie series, only without the ridiculously long hair). From his ears hung green earrings, similar to those Allura wore. Below his eyes, curving above his sharp cheekbones, two pale green markings glowed gently.

Lance should have placed the Altean accent sooner.

Dread swirled in his gut, his mind tracing back to the last Alteans he had met. They had not been friendly.

"My, oh my," The Altean fairy proclaimed quietly, pinning Lance with his gaze, "What an interesting cross."

"Half human, according to the DNA scan," The other Altean said. She was staring intently at a holographic screen hovering above her wrist, black hair pulled sharply back into a ponytail. Blue markings glowed beneath her dark eyes, and her ears twitched absentmindedly as she read.

"Human?" The male Altean questioned. "Are you sure?"

"95% positive."

"Funny," He chuckled. "I thought we left that strange little planet alone – after all, they had little to offer the Empire." He shook his head in confusion, as though trying to work out the motives of a child intent on eating as much dirt as they possibly could, "They should have been a fairly advanced race. But they were far too busy waring with themselves to make any real advancements."

"Primitive," She confirmed with a nod.

Lance had been to an unfriendly universe before that was overrun with Alteans. But really, of all the universes out there, what were the chances that he had wound up in the same place again?

He was sure Pidge would have been able to figure the maths out. All he could say on the matter was that he was not the luckiest of paladins.

"Erm, hi," He said uneasily, his throat rasping. He felt awkward having them stare at him as though he were a specimen in a museum. He extended his hand to shake theirs, but after a long moment of them merely staring at his outstretched fingers, he quickly retracted it. "It's nice to meet you."

Pixie-face smirked at him. "Jordia, bring up his lineage – I want to know who's been visiting that ball of dirt illegally. We should not have unregistered half breeds running amok."

The woman – Jordia? – nodded and started searching through her screen. She bit her lip, seeming to read and reread the same section several times.

"What is it?" Pixie-face snapped impatiently.

"Sir, it appears… well, the scanner must be wrong." She hurriedly walked over to show him what she was seeing, unable to describe what she was seeing. "It seems to be… a very old line."

PF stared at the screen for 10 solid ticks. "Too old for this to be possible. The scanner must be wrong." He quickly tapped on the screen several times. "There! See – he died millennia ago, with no successors. The scanner is wrong. We will need to retest when we get back to headquarters."

Lance coughed uncomfortably, reminding himself of the ache in his ribs. "As lovely as a trip to headquarters sounds," He said, wearing his winning smile, "I'm afraid my… associate and I really must be going." He gestured to Lotor, the useless lump lying unhelpfully on the floor.

"What about the other one," PF said, paying Lance no mind.

"The system says cross, again." Jordia reported. "With…with…?" She smacked at the band at her wrist, trying to change whatever the screen was telling her. PF grabbed her arm to still the screen, taking in the few sentences about Lotor.

He narrowed his eyes, "There is definitely something wrong with this scanner. Half Galra? The Galra haven't been seen in 10,000 years." He dropped her arm, frustrated with what he had read. "Absolute nonsense. Be sure to upgrade your equipment when we return."

She nodded obediently, muttering an ashamed 'sir' in response.

Dread was building inside Lance – as the minutes passed he was more and more sure he had managed to return to the Altean universe. And he knew first-hand how unfriendly these people were to anyone outside their own race.

Granted, he was apparently 'a cross'. But that was information he hadn't processed yet. And besides, they obviously weren't too fond of half breeds either.

He needed a 100%, complete Altean. And with his ears and lack of cheek markings, there was only one man for the job.

He rushed to Lotor's side before the Alteans, sinking down beside him and trying 'desperately' to rouse him. "Sir, sir – are you okay?" He said, biting down on the rising sarcasm in his chest. He turned Lotor's face towards him and pushed down on the surprise he felt when he saw purple marks glowing on Lotor's cheek bones. That was new – luckily they should help sell his story.

The two Alteans looked on. He looked up at them graciously, "Your scanners are wrong," He tried to assure them. "He is a true Altean – look at his face. You can't deny that."

"We could say the same of your face," PF chuckled, clearly amused at Lance's display. "Besides, the man is bright purple."

"Alteans can change their skin colour," Lance argued, remembering when Allura had turned galran purple before their very eyes. "He was born with a condition – his colour thingy is broken. He's stuck like this."

 _'And look at his hair – you can't deny that he isn't Altean!'_ was another point he wanted to make, but a part of him felt for some reason that it wouldn't him win them over.

PF rolled his eyes towards Jordia with a half-amused smirk on his face. "This is why we shouldn't be mixing bloodlines."

"He means my chromatophores," Lotor's suddenly said as he finally opened his eyes and managed to sit up. Lance suspected he had been pretending to sleep and merely listening to the conversation, but he couldn't exactly go asking him now. "I have no control over them, and never have. They've been stuck like this my whole life." Lotor lied seamlessly, pushing his accent closer to that of the Alteans. Lance could see the two visibly relax at the prospect of meeting a fellow countryman.

Lance pretended to fuss over him as Lotor tried to stand. "That will be all," Lotor instructed, and Lance stepped back diligently.

He wasn't happy about this situation, and the way Lotor had ordered him about so casually made his blood boil. But he was afraid to get on the bad side of these Alteans – he had seen how they treated outsiders before. Better to present his 'leader' and remain quiet. For now.

Until he could think of a better plan.

Lotor held himself with princely confidence, strutting towards the two before him as though they were nothing. "Lotor, of Altea. And you are?" He asked with an unimpressed raise of an eyebrow.

PF appeared unabashed. "Emnor, of the Glyxia colony. This is my subordinate," He said with a nod towards Jordia who dutifully remained on her scanner.

"A pleasure," Lotor assured with a smile.

"What business do you have in this quadrant?" Emnor asked.

"Why, we were just making our way back to Altea." Lotor never once broke eye contact.

"To Altea?"

"Where else?"

"You're several galaxies away from your destination."

"Yes…" Lotor paused briefly. "We were simply taking the scenic route home."

Emnor squared the prince up in his eyes, clearly unimpressed. "What happened on this ship? Were you attacked?"

"A systems failure," Lance's voice burst out as he saw Lotor scrambling for a response. "We ran out of oxygen."

Lotor glared at Lance, clearly having picked up on the Altean's dislike of him. Lance averted his eyes, pretending to be embarrassed when he knew outright he had just saved Lotor's butt.

"The oxygen levels were perfectly fine when we came aboard," Emnor said suspiciously.

"They must have managed reset." Lotor smiled knowingly, "Lucky for us."

"Indeed," Emnor said slowly. "You both required resuscitation."

Lotor shook his head with a quiet laugh, "Oh how embarrassing – I do apologise for all the trouble we have caused you. Lance," He snapped, "Make sure our systems are scheduled for a full work up when we return to Altea – evidently the ship is in need of a few upgrades."

Lance nodded reverently. Lotor seemed to pause for a moment, staring at Lance for more of a reaction.

Lance's jaw clenched. "Yes, sir," He said through gritted teeth.

Satisfied and smug, Lotor turned back to Emnor. "Well, if that is all, I will thank you for your assistance, but we really must get going." Lotor took a step back, gesturing to the ship's docking bay where they were firmly attached to an Altean ship.

"Not so fast," Emnor said. "We still need to bring you both to headquarters."

At this, Lotor's easy-going smile turned into a scowl. "Whatever for?" He said, clearly irritated.

"All Altean crafts require a registration, and a pass for their journey, clearly detailing their destination and reason for travel," Jordia said, finally lowering her wrist to look directly at Lotor. "Aside from the missing pass, I cannot find any registration documentation for this craft: you are flying a ship that has not been reported to the Empire, and therefore must be confiscated. You will need to come with us for questioning."

This was not going well. Lance could barely hear the soft spoken Alteans over the blood pounding in his ears. The situation was going downhill, and there was nothing he could do but watch. Anything he said was brushed off, or treated scornfully. He was at a disadvantage here, and Lotor wasn't having much better luck.

"Of course this ship is registered," Lotor said. His form was tense, as though trying to keep in control of every fibre in his body. "You said it yourself, your scanners clearly aren't working. They've made a number of mistakes already. Besides, what would two loyal Alteans such as ourselves have to gain from lying to the Empire?"

"Only one of you is a full Altean," Jordia stated. "And at present we are unable to determine even that."

"All the more reason to take a trip to headquarters," Emnor said smugly.

Lotor was losing ground – Lance could see. The prince wasn't getting his way, and it was frustrating him. Lotor's brow was furrowed and he was staring at Emnor as though his gaze alone would be able to burrow through the man.

What could Lance do? Was there any way he could help?

They were going to get taken to whatever these 'headquarters' were. The Alteans were going to find out who they were, and where they were from. They were going to find out what this ship could do, and bring a new war into the universe he regarded as home.

Voltron already had one war to worry about – they didn't need another one!

He opened his mouth as though he had thought of something useful say. At that moment, Lotor made the same move, both appearing as though they could resolve this situation with a few select words. An unlikely feat, and one neither of them had the chance to try and accomplish.

All of the lights on the ship went out: the room filled with darkness, the only light being the green, blue and purple of the Altean's cheeks, and that blue hue that still crowded Lance's vision. A moment later the entire ship jarred, knocking them all to the ground as a massive 'hiss' of air could be heard.

"Sir, the ship!" Jordia said in a panicked tone.

"It must be the Guns," Emnor said, clearly angry. "Radio the ship, tell them to take out the opposing spacecraft."

The Guns…?

Why did that ring a bell?

The ship shook violently as shots began firing, narrowly missing them.

"The shields aren't up," Lotor said, scrambling for the control desk. "We haven't got a chance in a shootout with no protection."

Lance tried to follow him, "We haven't got any power! What are we supposed to do?"

"Hold it, you two!" They both heard the unmistakable sound of a gun being drawn and charged. Lance froze: he had been through enough today without adding being shot to the list.

"Sir, there are too many of them," Jordia reported.

Emnor's concentration didn't break. Keeping his gun trained on Lance and Lotor, he said, "I will not have these insignificant rebel posers sending me running. Hold our ground!"

Lance was not enjoying how out of control he was in this situation. He and Lotor were standing frozen with their hands in the air, just waiting to be gunned down.

Jordia's screen turned red and started flashing, "We have taken a critical hit. The shield is down: we are taking heavy fire."

Emnor looked at Lance and Lotor, before sighing angrily and turning to face Jordia's screen. His earrings glowed green as he started giving instructions to the Altean ship in what to do next. Lance and Lotor looked at eachother, then quickly ducked behind the control console out of the line of fire.

"What is going on?!" Lance shouted, the rumble of the battle outside loud in his ears.

"How am I supposed to know?!" Lotor yelled back.

"This is all your fault!"

"My fault?"

Lance's eyes widened. "Of course it's your fault. Your stupid quest for more quintessence."

"I wanted to go to the realm of unlimited quintessence, not this place!" Lotor shouted. "Something must have gone wrong."

"The realm of unlimited quintessence _filled with giant, evil monsters_?" Lance was exasperated, his words coming out fast and angry. "This – this is why you don't go messing with the rift. It destroyed a planet last time – how did you think this time would pan out any better?"

"I was prepared-"

"Evidently not!"

The argument could have gone on for hours, but it was then that the silence struck Lance. No more rumblings of gunfire, no more muttered orders streaming from Emnor.

Taking a deep breath, Lance peeked over the top of the control console.

The room was empty.

"Lotor," Lance was suddenly whispering, "I think they abandoned ship."

Everything around them began shaking violently, the lights above them attempting to come back to life but only managing to flicker weakly. There was once again a hiss of air, and then nothing but an uncomfortable silence.

A new ship had docked with them.

"Hey, Lotor?" Lance asked, his voice very small in his throat.

"Mmh?" Lotor mumbled back. The pair of them looked a sight, both cowering behind the table, peering fearfully towards the room's entrance. Lance summoned his bayard, refusing to be caught unawares again.

"What do you think is bad enough to scare the Altean Empire, and send them running with their extremely advanced and deadly weaponry?"

"That," Lotor paused, mainly to be dramatic, "Is a very good question."

"Shall we call a truce for now?" Lance asked.

"That may be a good idea."

Lance nodded. He knew he couldn't trust Lotor as far as he could throw him, but better to have a partner in an enemy he knew than to stand alone against an unknown opponent.

An unknown opponent that would be coming though those doors any moment now.


End file.
